


Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder: A Lovely Sentiment, But Rarely Applies To Anniversary Gifts

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Anniversary, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Meta, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person Omniscient, last-minute gift panic, stupid wordy bullshit, the boys are a mess, the ladies get shit done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: It was Monday; and on the desk belonging to ‘Toad Buttzman’ (if the vandalised nameplate was to be believed), an ashtray was having a little think about a few concepts it had little grasp of.It was Tuesday; and on the fridge door, a small snail-themed calendar attempted to make itself known with some well-timed flutters and a pointedly circled date.It was Wednesday; and the ashtray and calendar, for they were in fact one and the same, were back on the desk, with a few more circles and even some arrows for good measure. It was as pointed a message as the entity comprising them both felt comfortable giving on behalf of other people, especially in regards to concepts she still hadn’t quite figured out.And it went, as such messages to this particular recipient often did, completely unnoticed.In which Dirk and Todd celebrate three years together- but forgot they were supposed to be doing that.Rated M for suggestive jokes, mild heavy petting and Dirk being entirely too comfortable in sex shops.





	Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder: A Lovely Sentiment, But Rarely Applies To Anniversary Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there, my chums! Long time no see! 'Tis I, ol' Bees, back to celebrate ONE YEAR OF FANDOM FUN!
> 
> Yes, my dears, twas a year ago to the day that I posted my first EVER Dirk Gently fic! Who knew a silly little drabble about Dirk and Amanda braiding each other's hair would spawn an avalanche of content? Certainly not me- but after the creative drought I was suffering before discovering this show, I was ludicrously grateful nonetheless!
> 
> It's been a little while since I've posted any fic, but it's not because I've fallen away from the show and the fandom- truth is for the most part I've moved beyond the desire to write little one-shots, and big hefty multi-chapters are my new full-time occupation! Part two of the Spaced AU is in progress, as is an 80s AU, possibly a few other things besides... combined with my unfortunate health problems, I haven't the time or capability for much else! And I REFUSE to post any chapters of those long ones until I've got a first draft of the entire fic ready because... well, me and WIPs don't always mesh super well, and I'd hate to leave people hanging the way I've done before (*coughcoughmrsandmancough*). God, If I'd only had the sense to wait for that one to be finished before posting any of it... well, this fic could have been my 42nd as well as my one-year anniversary. Damn it. Curse my eagerness.
> 
> Anyway, to the matter at hand! This fic is based on a prompt lavellington sent me ages ago: _Both Todd and Dirk forget their own anniversary until Farah (or Amanda, or someone) says something that reminds them and then they both panic (separately) because they forgot._
> 
> After being sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters, I rediscovered this prompt a month or so ago and thought HEY... that gives me an idea! So I bided my time (and by that I mean put off writing it til the last possible moment so typos are on me), and here it is- a celebration of my anniversary, with a celebration of a Brotzly anniversary!
> 
> Right, well that's more than enough from me- literally, the end notes are crammed with gratuitous Pratchett-esque footnotes- so I'll leave you to it! I dedicate this to all the wonderful people in this fandom, the friends I've made as well as the newcomers, to the cast and crew who gave us a truly wonderful time while it lasted, and to myself for starting to get my motherfucking act together.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

It was Monday; and on the desk belonging to ‘Toad Buttzman’ (if the vandalised nameplate was to be believed), an ashtray was having a little think about a few concepts it had little grasp of.

It was Tuesday; and on the fridge door, a small snail-themed calendar attempted to make itself known with some well-timed flutters and a pointedly circled date.

It was Wednesday; and the ashtray and calendar, for they were in fact one and the same, were back on the desk, with a few more circles and even some arrows for good measure. It was as pointed a message as the entity comprising them both felt comfortable giving on behalf of other people, especially in regards to concepts she still hadn’t quite figured out.

And it went, as such messages to this particular recipient often did, completely unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

 

Now it was Thursday, and time in the offices of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency was progressing as such- that is to say, in a textbook Thursday-like fashion. Unlike most Thursdays, however, the holistic detective himself was nowhere to be found, nor was his financier-slash-other half of the strike team.

His assistant, the long-suffering (and long-suffered by others) Todd Brotzman, probably would have used the opportunity to make himself scarce, too, had his sister not suddenly materialised out of thin air and demanded coffee.

She did that sometimes.

"So," said Amanda Brotzman, hair still crackling with residual sparks of blue magic, tossing the word into the air along with the rubber band ball in her hands. "What're you guys doing this weekend?"

Todd frowned, catching the ball and tossing it back. They'd almost made it an hour without dropping it once- it was hardly a world record, but it was most certainly a Brotzman sibling record, and one they wouldn't have come close to with a certain Miss Black around to tell them off for wasting time. But she was otherwise engaged with Dirk, and Todd was far from a conscientious worker without either of his ‘bosses’ present to chivvy him into action. It wasn’t every day he got to catch up with his sister, either- she had a fair bit of world-saving to do herself, these days. "Nothing. I dunno. Why?"

"Oh." She caught it, hesitating a second before throwing it again. "I figured you and Dirk would have big plans Friday. You just taking it easy?"

Todd digested that pleasantly worded but ultimately unhelpful sentence, brows furrowing as he turned it over in his head like a puzzle box. "Why would we have big plans?" Catch, toss.

Catch. Pause. "...For your anniversary?"

Toss.

Miss.

Todd gaped, hands frozen in midair as the ball sailed over them, thudding against the wall and bouncing to freedom- or rather, to the void behind the filing cabinet where many a ball, important letter and haunted heirloom had vanished, never to be seen again[1].“…Our what now?”

Amanda watched the ball roll away with frustrated resignation, swearing under her breath. “Shit. Man, we were about to beat our record!”

“Our _what_ now?!”

“Anniversary. You and Dirk. It’s Friday, right?”

Todd’s heart sank with a sad, defeated _plop_ like a stone into a densely polluted lake after two disappointing skips. “…It is?”

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I remember ‘cause Dirk overloaded my phone with texts the second you guys got together. I had to turn off vibrate for like two hours. What is it now, two years?”

"Three."

"Dude, that's awesome! I've like, _never_ seen you make a relationship last this long! You must be stoked."

He was.

He was also mortified. "Amanda... What's the date?"

She stared at him. "...You forgot, didn't you?"

Todd groaned, burying his face in his hands. “ _Shit._ It’s been so crazy round here I didn’t even… god, it completely slipped my mind!”

“No, dude, I get it.”

“You're judging me.”

She was. “No, man, why would I be judging you? Y’know, it's just an anniversary. People forget ‘em all the time. I bet _Dirk_ forgot all about it, too. I mean, does he really strike you as the type to, I dunno, get _excited_ about stuff like this or, uhhhhhhh, _plan ahead_ for it, or clear his day _just_ to spend his time with you and celebrate _three years_ of possibly the most solid relationship he's had in his _life?”_

“...Oh god. I'm a horrible person.”

“Yuppppppp.”

“ _Shit,”_ he groaned, jumping to his feet and running his hands fretfully through his hair as if he could pull an entire anniversary dinner and fifty roses out of it. “Shit, okay, I need to… _shit,_ what do I need to do, I need to, I need to do _something!_ Like, uh, book a restaurant or-?”

“A restaurant Dirk _hasn’t_ been barred from? At a day's notice?” Amanda snorted, kicking her feet up on the table. “Good luck.”

“Shit, okay, fuck- well I have to, I have to uh… get a present! Yeah, that's, that's what I have to do! I can do that! There's loads of time, I- I can find something!”

“Good idea, Todd, yeah. Go out to the store and find the perfect anniversary present for your holistic boyfriend in-” she checked her phone with a smirk- “two hours before it closes.”

“ _SHIT.”_

Amanda laughed as he sprang across the room like a startled toad (proving once again that her nameplate graffiti was apt), snatching his jacket off the hook so fast he left the label behind. Though she understood his plight, she was far from sympathetic- for Todd, that is. She _would_ allow herself to feel bad for Dirk. But only a little- she knew the man well enough by now that he wasn’t going to dump her scatterbrained brother for forgetting an anniversary. And he’d surely use his big blue eyes and adorable pout to get lots special treatment from Todd as payback. “Dude, calm down, I don't think he's gonna take it personally- he _knows_ you're an idiot!”

Todd could do little more than bitterly scowl as he thrust his arms into his jacket and hoped they happened across the correct sleeves. “You gonna come help or you gonna sit there and laugh?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I come help, can I still laugh?”

“I hate you.”

And he did. He really did. But not nearly as much as he hated himself in that moment.

“Jesus,” he muttered, snapping up his wallet. “He's probably so excited…”

 

* * *

 

“My what?”

“Your…” Farah Black narrowed her eyes, peering at Dirk over her espresso. “Your anniversary. With Todd. Three years, right?”

Dirk Gently, holistic detective-slash-boyfriend, took a break from racking his brains for the Very Important Thing that he was Not To Forget, and returned the look with a patient smile. “My anni-? No. Think you might be getting your dates a bit confused, Farah.”

Farah, who had on three separate occasions telephoned calendar companies to complain about event inaccuracies, bristled at the implication that she was in the temporal wrong. “My dates are fine, I _know_ when your anniversary is, Dirk, I helped you plan the party last year, remember?”

“Yes, of course I do- it was ten months ago! Two left to go- my anniversary isn't till June!”

“It is June.”

“...late June.”

“It's the twenty-first.”

“Twenty-first.”

“Yeah.”

“Which would… make tomorrow-”

“Yeah.”

It took Dirk, who had never owned a calendar for any reason except to admire the pictures[2], another moment and a fair bit of meaningful glaring to fully comprehend what he was being told. When the penny finally dropped, it did so heavily. In fact, the realisation of what that Very Important Thing that he was Not To Forget was turned out to be somewhat bigger than a penny- it was more akin to an adolescent sperm whale colliding fast and forceful with the ground. _“Shit!”_

“Dirk? You okay?”

The detective was not, in fact, okay. The memory had made itself well and truly known, and unavoidable- metaphorical whale innards splattered everywhere. He made a distressed noise to explain as much, springing up from the rather squeaky chair[3]. “Everything's just been happening, I thought I had more time- STUPID DIRK, always solving cases and forgetting anniversaries!”

“O-okay, calm down,” said Farah, raising her hands in the universally recognised body language for ‘chill’. Pointless, really- Dirk Gently had never been chill a day in his life. “I bet he's planning something anyway, so just, just go out, get him a gift and it'll all be fine!”

“Yes- yes! A gift! I can do that,” he babbled as he scooped up his jacket, barely slowing down to check that the sleeves were going on the correct arms (or even the correct limbs in general). “Let’s go!”

_“Now?”_

“Yes! No time like the present for presents-” he gasped- “is _that_ why they call it that?”

“Dirk, it’s half three, technically we’re both on the clock until-”

“Farah,” Dirk cut in with a meaningful look. “What is the _point_ of being manager and treasurer of a detective agency if you can’t give yourself- and, by extension, your attractive lovestruck friend who would abso _lute_ ly do the same for you no questions asked- a bit of flexibility in your hours?”

Farah hesitated, conflicted. They had things to do, and an impromptu shopping trip didn’t factor into her carefully planned schedule for the day.

But then, there wasn’t much chance of _anything_ fitting in when she had a mopey Dirk to contend with.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing her jacket and slapping a few notes down on the table with the decisive gravitas of a judge banging a gavel. “But make it quick!”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dirk mumbled, brushing down the colour swatches on his arm- he was very fond of the recently added white suede stripe, but it collected grime like nobody’s business and brushing it had become somewhat of a nervous habit. And a guilty habit. And a sad habit. In fact, it was a habit to accompany just about every negative emotion one could imagine- with the exception of blind panic, which often spurred him into a bigger and more insensible course of action than a bit of mild fidgeting.

“Hey,” said Farah, in the tones of a person deeply uncomfortable with emotional demonstrations and fighting through it by mentally re-visiting a WikiHow article on giving comfort to friends. It took her a few attempts to find a grip on Dirk’s arm that read to her as the correct placement and pressure for comfort in this situation. “It’s okay. Todd, he’s- he’s crazy about you. He’s not gonna be mad.”

“I know, I just… I feel so awful,” Dirk lamented, bewildered by what read to _him_ as an apparent intention to haul him by the elbow into a frog march, but he had a tad too much on his mind to question it.

Besides, it was very possible and indeed probable that he deserved it.

“Oh, Farah,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s probably so excited…”

 

* * *

 

 

“Seriously?” Amanda snorted. “Doesn’t he have, like, eighty of those?”

Todd stuffed the russet jacket back onto the rack angrily. It was too drab for Dirk, anyway. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I guess, but… at least I know he _likes_ them!” He paused, staring desolately into the depths of the coat rack like a washed-up philosopher seeking the meaning of life in a bottle of whiskey. “I guess I could get him-”

“Don’t say a tie.”

Todd flinched, and stared slack-jawed at his sister as he wondered whether mind-reading was another handy new skill she’d picked up[4] . “How did you-?”

“Saw you eyeballing them on the way in,” she said, unimpressed. “Seriously, dude, don’t even go there. That’s like… a _dad_ present. Or a ‘I’ve given you forty years of my life and I’m running out of ideas so here’s another fucking tie I guess’ present. Don’t. Trust me.”

Todd sighed, running his hands through his hair again as if maybe the rose-conjuring thing might happen this time[5] . “Okay, well, what’s _your_ idea?”

“I don’t know… a book?”

“Don’t think so- he’ll stroke the cover for a while and then just go re-read the Enid Blytons.”

“Music?”

“What? No! I’m not gonna go into a store and buy _Dirk_ music- jeez!”

“Huh,” she said with a wicked smile. “That’s not what you said last March-”

“Amanda-”

“Y’know, when we got stoned in the van-”

“Sis-!”

“Aw, you were so _cute-_ what was it you said? _‘Oh, maaaaan, Sis, I looooooove him. I’d do ~a-ny-thing~ for him, he’s like, my soul-’”_

_“Amanda!”_

“Relax, dude!” she cackled, punching him playfully (and rather painfully) on the arm. “I’m just sayin’, y’know, put your money where your mouth is!”

“Well… when I said _anything,_ I meant, like, dangerous stuff. Diving in front of guns and shit. I wouldn’t buy a Spice Girls record with three of those pointed at my head.”

“...Y’know what? That’s fair.”

“Thank you. So, any more bright ideas?”

Amanda huffed, crossing her arms. “Why you asking me? He’s your boyfriend.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions,” said Todd dryly, flicking through the rack with mounting frustration. Grey, grey, russet, moss, grey- most self-respecting men’s clothing outlets didn’t sport the kind of hues Dirk Gently favoured. Most of his looks were acquired under dubious circumstances or came custom ordered from Japan.

“Ooh, I’ve got an idea- how ‘bout you try putting that time machine back together, go back in time and write down your fucking anniversary so you don’t forget like a massive tool?”

Todd made a short, ragged exclamation- it rose sharply and ended abruptly like a broken snare drum- and buried his face in his hands. “ _Fuck._ I’m such a… _fuck.”_

“Yeah, you kind of are.”

He dropped his hands, looking at his sister with wild eyes. Logically, of course, he knew this wasn’t as big a deal as he was beginning to make it out to be. But we’ve already been over the relationship between logic and desperation in footnote number five. “Jesus. I’m screwing this all up, aren’t I?”

Amanda frowned, cocky demeanour slipping as she sensed a tangible change in the air. Todd would probably say it was a side effect of her magic, making her all super-empath. Truth was she was just a lot better at people than he was. “Todd?”

Todd was barely paying attention. He’d made the fatal mistake of allowing himself a moment of honest reflection[6] and now he was down the metaphorical slide and in the funhouse of self-loathing. “God, I’m screwing this up. Screwing this up like I screw up everything.” There was an edge of despair in his voice- an obvious, obnoxiously glimmering edge, so wide as to almost eclipse the whole. Less of an edge, more of a coast at low tide.

“Woah!” said Amanda, approaching him with a firm but calming tone as one would a spooked horse. And walking up and planting her hands on his shoulders, as one would _not_ a spooked horse- although anyone who knew Todd Brotzman knew he was just as liable to kick when startled. “Dude, calm down, I’m just joking around- it’s gonna be fine!”

Todd looked at her with wide eyes, shoulders drawn up so high in guilty anxiety that he was seconds away from wearing them as earmuffs. “I was gonna do something, I just… fucking _forgot,_ fuck. He’s probably hired a fucking brass band. Jesus, why is he even _with_ me?”

The negativity of that remark earned him a firm, well-meaning slap upside the head from his little sister. “Ow! What was that-?!”

“Dude. Shut up,” she said flatly. And he did, lest he attract further sibling brutality. “Good. Look, he’s not gonna fucking care. Well, okay, maybe he’ll _care,_ but… he’s not gonna _dump_ you, okay? He loves you- for some reason- and he’s not gonna be mad. Just tell him you forgot, promise to make it up to him with whatever weird nerdy sex stuff you guys do, and that’s gonna be the end of it.”

Todd paled even further. “I’m not _telling_ him!” he hissed, as if the man in question was nearby eavesdropping behind the sweaters. Which, to be fair, would not be out of character. “He might… I dunno, _cry_ or something!”

“Yeah, y’know what, you’re right- a nice big plate of dishonesty is _exactly_ what you should give him,” she said, voice dryer than the Bergsberg scrubland.

“I just- I don’t wanna hurt him, okay?” he said, catching his sister’s hand and giving it an imploring squeeze. “Please, sis. I mess up everything. I don’t wanna do it again. Not to Dirk, so...” He shrugged helplessly. “Help me out?”

Amanda glowered. Usually, as the younger sibling, the big imploring eyes were _her_ signature trick. But, well, Dirk hadn’t affectionately nicknamed Todd’s eyes the ‘Brotzman Blues’ for nothing. She sighed, a sound of defeat not unlike air escaping a balloon, and begrudgingly squeezed his hand back. “Fine. I won’t tell him. But if this goes south it’s on you.”

“I know- thank you.”

“Right,” she said grimly, turning round and hauling Todd out of the store. “Well, nothing more to see here- c’mon, clock’s ticking.”

Todd followed obediently, and cast a last longing glance at the neckties on his way out.

Maybe they could just call that Plan B.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dirk,” Farah said, voice low as if what she was asking was too sensitive for anyone within earshot to risk hearing. Given that ‘within earshot’ included the rest of the sex shop they were loitering in, she probably needn’t have worried so much. “Do we have to do this… _here?”_

The detective frowned, still holding aloft a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, not paying attention to Farah in the slightest. “Absolute rip-off. So _flimsy-_ even Todd’s little body would snap these if you tried hanging him from a-”

“Please, just... s- _stop_ talking.”

He blinked, finally tearing his gaze from the cuffs and the bewildering array of ‘toys’ whence they came. “Have you seen anything?”

“I’ve been trying not to,” Farah muttered, glancing up ahead at the clerk of indeterminate gender pretending not to watch them. Farah wouldn’t describe herself as prudish, by any means- as an attractive, sexually active woman in her thirties, she’d had her fair share of fun. But shopping around for her own needs was one thing. Accompanying the not-nearly-as-innocent-as-he-seemed Dirk Gently on his mission to spice up his sex-life with her employee slash ex… _whatever_ , was quite another. It wasn’t that she harboured any sort of jealousy or ill-will, it just disconcerted her to be so involved in the intimate details of her colleagues’ private lives. Especially when she knew uncomfortably well that Todd would probably agree about the flimsiness of the cuffs. “Look, no judgement but… is this _really_ where you wanna go for an anniversary present?”

Dirk groaned, flinging the cuffs carelessly back on the hook. “I don’t _know._ I just… wandered in here because I saw it, I suppose. Honestly, day after day I have this ridiculous cosmic chattering in my ear and today, right when I could do with some pointers, _silence._ Bloody inconsiderate.”

“Really?” said Farah, disbelieving. She felt he’d gravitated towards far too many dodgy places on their hunt so far for it to be entirely coincidence. She’d rather believe it was the universe’s doing than a statement on his shopping habits.

“Yes. Nothing. Bugger all.” He leaned his head on a nearby shelf and gazed wistfully at a fluorescent pink love egg, as if it was a bus window and he was watching the raindrops trickle down in the IMAX of his mind. “Nothing in here he’d be interested in.”

“ _Nothing?”_

“Well… nothing we haven’t got already.”

“O-kay, did not need to know that.”

“You did ask.”

“Ugh. Okay, look, let’s just think logically about this. What did you get him for your last anniversary?”

Dirk blushed- for the first time since entering the shop, rather worryingly. “I made him something, actually.”

“What?”

“I made him some vouchers-”

“Um,” Farah interjected, raising her hand. “Actually, y’know what, I really don’t need to hear about what kind of sex coupons you made him.”

“Farah!” said Dirk, offended. “What a crass assumption!”

“So they _weren’t_ for sex?”

“Not all of them, no!”

“Okay, so what were the _other_ ones for?”

“A few things- kisses, breakfast in bed, an hour of me not talking.”

“Huh. Okay, why don’t you do that again?”

“Todd banned me from doing it. There were… unforeseen complications.”

“What kind of- _no,”_ she cut herself off. “On second thoughts, no, I, I don’t want to know. Okay, so coupons are out.”

“Back to square one,” said Dirk sadly, picking up the love egg and gazing at it as though it were a skull in a Shakespeare play. “I’m rubbish at this.”

“No, you're not, you just… left it too late,” said Farah. “I'm sure you would have got him something good, y’know, if you had more time.”

“Ugh, why is this so _difficult,_ ” Dirk complained loudly, flinging his hands up in the air as if demanding justification from the god of thunder himself [7] . “I don't know _anything_ about this!”

“Excuse me,” the shop clerk chimed in, with canned friendliness tinged with impatience. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Hm? Oh! No, I was talking about another thing- I know plenty about these,” he clarified, giving the egg a cheerful little shake.

“If you're looking for something in particular-”

“Right, yes, let me just stop you right there: I know more than you.”

Farah smacked Dirk on the arm as the bewildered and offended clerk slunk away. “Dirk! Even _I_ know that was rude!”

He pouted. “It's true! I know my way around these kind of establishments _very_ well- no, what I _meant_ was it's… the _other things_ I don't know about.”

Sometimes puzzling out Dirk's meaning was a tricky game of Tetris. Farah wore the expression of a person waiting for the long vertical key piece to drop. “‘Other things’...?”

“You know- _relationship_ things,” Dirk hissed, flushed red with embarrassment. It struck Farah as vaguely absurd that he'd get bashful now when he'd been fondling a range of fluorescent sex aids for the better part of an hour. “Anniversary things. What- what do people _get_ each other? Is there a guidebook? A registry? A Wikipedia article, perhaps?”

The missing piece clicked into place. “Dirk, it… it's not a _test._ ”

“Isn't it?”

“...Well. It's, not _supposed_ to be,” she corrected herself. She fidgeted, shuffling from foot to foot a little. She wasn't the most… _emotionally articulate_ person, and she didn't much like to be placed in precarious social situations at the best of times. Somehow it was even worse with the threat of accidentally sinking her claws into Dirk Gently’s metaphorical vulnerable underbelly. She hesitated a moment, hoping against hope that Amanda might appear in a crackle of energy to be Dirk's emotional Yoda.

Amanda, however, was otherwise engaged across town, fulfilling a very similar role for her frantic brother. Farah was on her own.

“Dirk, it's- it's not, like, _a thing,_ you know?” She began- a little lamely, but at least she was trying. “There's no _rules,_ you just… people do what they wanna do. Or what their partners  wanna do. And sometimes no one wants to do anything, and it- it is what it is. But it's not an exam. Not if you really care about each other, it's just… a nice thing. That people do for each other. You know, to show someone you're thinking of them. Show them that you… y-you-”

“Love them.”

He said it so quietly it almost slid away unnoticed beneath the low cheesy jazz on the radio. “Yeah,” Farah agreed softly, crossing her arms.

Dirk sighed. “I _do_ love him. And I think about him all the time. I don't think there's a present in the world that could show him how much. But there _should_ be. He deserves the best and I can't give it to him, god knows the bloody universe isn't helping-” he looked to Farah with eyes wide as windows- “maybe- maybe it’s trying to tell me something? Maybe it doesn't _want_ me to be with Todd! Maybe I'm supposed to embarrass myself with an awful present and get dumped and go on a heartbroken cruise where I'll stumble into some bloody absurd dangerous situation and end up right back where I-”

 _“Dirk._ Dirk, you're spiralling again.”

“So I am. Shit.”  
  
“Dirk,” she said, deciding to roll the dice and try the physical contact thing again with an awkward pat of his shoulder. “...you said the universe never helps you, right?”

He peered at her suspiciously. “...yes, to Todd- how did you-?”

“He talks about you when he’s stoned.”

“Oh.”

“Look- if the universe doesn’t help you, and you’re not getting anything from it now, then… maybe that means you’re on the right track already. I mean, if it was helping you shop for Todd then it wouldn’t be _helping_ you. Right?”

“Um…”  
  
“So, _logically,_ if you follow that through, then anything the universe _isn’t_ helping you with must be something that helps you, and so this is good!”  
  
“I’m getting a headache.”

“Dirk,” she thumped his shoulder lightly. Or lightly by her standards- to Dirk it read as approximately a 2.5 on the Richter scale. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You’re on the right track.”

Dirk smiled, quizzically reassured. “Ah. Thank you, Farah. I understood approximately half of what you just said but you said it _very_ confidently, I must admit.”

“When do you _ever_ understand what’s going on…?”

“I prefer not to understand things. There’s no greater enemy to good honest detective work than understanding.”

“You’re a weird guy, Dirk.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“So… where are you gonna try next?”

Dirk frowned, peering around the shop. “Hm. Well, no handy little nudges from any cosmic powers, which is a _good_ thing…?” He rolled the egg around in his hand thoughtfully, stroking his chin with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand as if stroking an imaginary beard [8]. 

Then he put down the egg, picked _up_ the handcuffs, and marched off in the direction in which the affronted clerk had departed.

“Excuse me!” he sang out, twirling the cuffs round on his finger. “I don’t suppose you have these in a slightly more _durable_ metal? Maybe something in blue…?”

Maybe, Farah thought wistfully, she could just leave him to it.

But someone had to stop him paying for sex toys on the business account.

 

* * *

 

Todd Brotzman had never, in his entire normal pre-Dirk life, considered himself a morning person. When he greeted the day he greeted it, like any self-respecting ex-punk band stoner, with mistrust and, generally, a hangover.

But living with Dirk Gently for two and half years had certainly given him a splash of perspective on his sleeping habits.

“Ngh,” Dirk complained, batting at the sunlight on his face like he was swatting a fly. “Todd, close the curtains…”

Todd, who was already up and dressed and had been for about an hour- just in time to proudly declare that he had, in fact, woken up _in the morning_ like a functional human being- rolled his eyes from the window sill. “Or you could get your ass out of bed and do it yourself.”

“But you’re already there!”

“I like the view.”

Dirk, with lots of performative grumbling, rolled awkwardly out from under the covers. It had taken two months of sleeping together for Todd to convince him to take his weird, creepy Blackwing-straight back under the covers. Another three until he convinced him to stop sleeping fully-clothed. Two and a half years of bed-sharing down the line and here they were, Dirk begrudgingly abandoning his messy sprawl in the bed, shucking the covers to reveal bare legs, bare arms and his pyjamas of choice- lifted directly from Todd’s closet, of course. The Mexican Funeral shirt was pretty standard. The boxers were a summer thing. Dirk had admitted to himself, quite some time ago, that boxers were much comfier than the underpants he bought for himself. But he refused to buy his own on principle. They didn’t work with his outfits, he reasoned. But more importantly, to buy his own would be to admit defeat- and also to give up stealing Todd’s, which he enjoyed for a variety of reasons. Not least the little flicker of annoyance mixed with endearment that crossed his features when he noticed.

Todd recovered from said flicker with a sip of his coffee, wrinkling his nose. Black, no sugar, just how he liked it. Or how he claimed to like it. In their own little ways, they both made sacrifices for their individual aesthetics.

“Bloody summer,” Dirk grumbled, shambling across to tug irritably at the curtains as if they were the problem and not the solution. “That sun’s coming up earlier every day.”

“It came up like six hours ago, man, it’s past noon.”

Dirk gave up on the curtains with a heavy sigh- he was up now anyway, the damage was done- and flopped onto the window seat next to Todd[9]. “Well. Suppose we’d better get to work, then.”

“No need- Farah gave us the day off.”

Dirk froze as the events of the previous day and the importance of the current one once more asserted themselves. “Right. Yes, of course.”

Todd smiled softly over his mug, nudging Dirk’s leg with his foot. “Happy anniversary.”

“Likewise,” said Dirk, leaning in to plant a peck on his boyfriend’s stubbly cheek. Clean, but rough- he’d showered already this morning but foregone shaving. Sometimes he had to pick and choose basic maintenance activities, he simply didn’t have the energy or motivation to stay on top of everything. Dirk wasn’t about to kick up a fuss. Truth be told, he rather liked Todd with a little scruff on him- he enjoyed feeling interesting textures, particularly on his inner thighs.

Not that he imagined Todd’s face would be going anywhere near his thighs for quite some time. As soon as he figured out Dirk had completely forgotten about today, he was in the doghouse for sure.

Todd, of course, was thinking much the same thing. But he was no more of a mind reader than his sister. “So,” he said, shuffling about awkwardly.

“So,” Dirk repeated conversationally, tapping his fingers on the windowpane.

For a moment, that was just about all the conversation to be had. Silence fell, markedly more uncomfortable than the silence they were used to sharing at this time of day when they were both taking a moment of companionable peace to collect themselves. There was a tension in the air which both managed, rather unhelpfully, to read as their own doing with little regard to the other’s contribution.

“Well!” Dirk exclaimed, slapping his knees.

“Anyway,” said Todd simultaneously, shelving his mug.

They both did a double take, and laughed nervously.

“Carry on,” said Dirk graciously.

“You go first,” Todd mumbled over the top of him.

“Right, _one_ of us has to speak first-”

“This is dumb, one of us has to-”

“Alright, _I’ll_ go fir-”

“Fine, I’ll star-”

“Oh for God’s-”

“Fucking-!”

They both continued to try and get the conversation on track, talking over each other in unsynchronised synchronicity as tempers and guilt began to mount, culminating in- as such exchanges between them often did- a sudden explosion of mutual honesty.

_“I forgot it was today!”_

Silence fell again- silence of a stunned and bewildered variety, this time. Silences, Dirk mused, could be more vocal than words. “Wait… you too?” he asked, blinking.

Todd was unsure whether to be confused or guilty. Which, of course, meant he settled on both. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, it… it just completely slipped my mind, I’m sorry.”

“No it’s- it’s fine,” Dirk assured him, laughing a little manically. “ _God,_ well that’s a weight off my mind- I forgot, too!”

“So you had no idea-?”

“No!”

“And you wouldn’t have noticed if I’d-?”

“Nope! And you wouldn’t have-?”

“No, oh my-” Todd laughed too, burying both hands in his hair. “You- you _asshole,_ I felt terrible!”

“So did I! I spent all yesterday looking for a present!”

“Wait, _that’s_ where you went?”

“Well, not at first- oh, bugger, were you waiting all day?”

“No! I went out too- Amanda reminded me and I… Christ.”

“Well.”

The laughter tapered off into breathless chuckles, and finally relieved sighs as they recovered enough to look each other in the eye again. Todd dropped his arms, wrapping them round his knees, and snorted. “So,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Any luck?”

“Afraid not- I looked in all sorts of places, but nothing… stood out,” Dirk said sadly. Then he brightened, poking Todd’s knee. “Although plenty of things stood _up._ We should go on a shopping trip sometime, I’d be interested to see what takes your fancy.”

Todd wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, but his body’s instinctive reaction to the tone of voice was to blush. “Uh. Okay…”

“How about you?”

“No, I… I couldn’t find anything,” Todd shrugged. “Nothing seemed right. I figured I could just… make you breakfast or something.”

“You make me breakfast every day.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna point that out this time.”

Dirk pouted, giving Todd’s shoulder a shove. “Poor show, Todd- I worked really hard on my last minute panic pseudo-gift!”

Todd snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“Well, that hardly matters now, does it?”

“Hey, hey, I told you mine!” Todd insisted, catching Dirk’s arm before he could flounce dramatically away. He’d developed sort of a sixth sense for Dirk’s exits over the years. “Come on, spill!”

Dirk’s jaw twitched in a small convulsive head bob- a motion Todd fondly labeled the Tick of Defeat. “I was… going to let you choose the dinner music tonight.”

“...That’s it?”

“And I wasn’t going to complain about it. Or compare it unfavourably to the concept of depression in musical form.”

“It’s a nice thought, I guess- but come on, you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.”

“Probably not, but it’s a gesture!”

Todd chuckled, looking up at Dirk fondly. But not too directly- sometimes, in these quiet happy moments of Dirk being ridiculous, it felt like looking at the sun. “Hey… I’m sorry I forgot.”

Dirk returned the smile, and took his hand. “Me too. But for what it’s worth, I’m not offended.” He paused, and shrugged. “Bit miffed about not getting free stuff, I suppose, but not offended.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Todd laughed, squeezing his hand between his own. “I mean, I get why people do these things and make a big deal out of them but… I don’t need them, y’know? I don’t need milestones or gifts or big romantic gestures, ‘cause I… I guess I just don’t need it spelled out for me. I mean, I know how I feel, and I know how you feel and none of that’s gonna change just ‘cause we’re both messes who can’t remember anniversaries. You know, we’re _adults,_ and I love you and I don’t need a fucking bunch of flowers every- _mmf!”_

Dirk, taking a leaf from the Brotzman Book of Distracting Rambling Boyfriends, silenced him with a kiss.

It’s just possible he ended up distracting himself in the process.

“Dirk,” Todd laughed, exhaling the words between kisses as he caught Dirk’s other hand. Which was somewhere in the vicinity of Todd’s belt and loitering with intent. “It’s already the afternoon.”

“And?”

“I’m already dressed!”

“Ah, yes. Bother,” said Dirk, voice laced with suggestion as he picked thoughtfully at the hem of Todd’s shirt. “If only we had a nice, free day ahead of us, with no work or prior commitments, and no plans because we both forgot to make them…” he pecked Todd’s cheek cheerfully, and made _sure_ to linger. “I _so_ wanted to make it up to you… oh well! Suppose we’ll just watch telly all day. Fully clothed. Pity.”

“Okay, point taken,” said Todd, tugging his boyfriend’s hair in half-hearted admonishment. “Now shut up and take-” his eyes flickered down to his own boxers on Dirk’s hips with annoyance and not a little arousal[10] \- “ _my_ pants off.”

“I was about to!”

“No, not the ones _I’m_ weari- ugh, whatever, same difference.”

Dirk grinned into his neck, already formulating ideas. Todd, Dirk thought as he made short work of the belt, was right. They didn’t need milestones or tokens. What they had was enough, _more_ than enough, and what they had was each other.

In a moment of soppy silliness, Dirk nuzzled against Todd’s ear and murmured: “You’re the best anniversary present a man could ask for, Todd Brotzman.”

Todd, already flushed from the heavy petting, turned an even darker shade of pink. Much to his own annoyance- he knew very well that making him blush was one of Dirk’s favourite games, and he always, _always_ won. “Shut up…”

“And _this,”_ Dirk continued, lightly smacking Todd’s bottom. “Is the second best one!”

“You ruined it.”

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to-” Dirk pulled away slightly, head cocked in false innocence- “ _stop?_ ”

Todd didn’t dignify that with an answer. At least, not a verbal one.

 _Hm,_ Dirk thought, between gasping kisses and frantic groping. _Maybe I should have plumped for the handcuffs after all._

It was the last anniversary-related thought that crossed Dirk’s mind before Todd made him forget what day of the week it was altogether.

 

* * *

 

 

**One Year Later**

 

“You,” Dirk gasped, hands fisted in the blankets as he fought for breath. “Are getting _very_ good at that.”

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Todd panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “How about phrasing your compliments in a way that _doesn’t_ make you sound like a condescending school teacher?”

“I can’t help it- I’m just so proud of you,” said Dirk with the grin of a man feeling safe in the knowledge that his significant other was currently too well-shagged to punch him in the face. “You were once such a timid little vanilla bean and _now-!”_

Todd, with the glare of a man who knew all too well he was too well-shagged to punch his significant other in the face, merely punched his arm instead. “Shut the hell up.”

“Alright, alright, I’m done,” Dirk giggled, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Up I shut. Shutting up is happening.”

“Sure doesn’t sound like it.”

Dirk kissed Todd right on his scrunched-up eyebrows, and flung his arm over him. Despite his irritation, Todd slotted into the embrace unquestioningly. Eye to eye, skin to skin, they lay together until the sweat had cooled and their breath was caught, eyelids drooping in happy exhaustion.

Another of their trademarked vocal silences fell across the room. Well, almost. The quiet was punctuated by the quiet crooning of David Bowie from the corner- from the vintage turntable that had been Dirk’s gift to Todd. He knew Todd was very particular about audio quality. For the time being it perched atop the window seat, right next to Todd’s gift to Dirk- a snowglobe, the white particles settled over the miniature model of the detective agency. He knew Dirk got homesick for English snow.

Despite their mutual assurance that they had no need of tokens of affection, it was satisfying to get it right this time.

“So,” Dirk said, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s- _assistant’s, soulmate’s, future husband’s_ \- head. “How on earth do you plan on topping this next year?”

Todd thought quietly on it, stroking his hand over his boyfriend’s- _best friend’s, life partner’s, significant annoyance’s-_ chest. “...How do you feel about neckties?”

 

* * *

 

“Ahhh,” Mona Wilder sighed, quiet as a mouse- possibly because she had been one up until mere moments ago, after she’d been a calendar, and an ashtray, before she had decided to briefly re-humanise herself to speak her mind. “Good. They figured it out. That’s nice…”

She turned to you, dark eyes peering sweetly, curiously into your soul. “Isn’t that nice?”

You, bewildered and uncomfortable with being hauled unexpectedly into the narrative, exhaled briefly out of your nose and made a non-committal noise.

“Yes,” Mona agreed- perhaps with you, perhaps with herself. She tapped your screen lightly, thoughtfully, though already her eyes were miles away. “Everyone’s happy…”

And then she was gone. Morphing into lines- little black markings, pixels on a screen. A simple collection of words, waiting to be read again. Words were a nice thing to be, she decided. They were pictures you could tell to others, feelings given shape, they lived forever- even longer than tortoises, or rocks- and never stayed still. She could talk to people, influence them, make them think, make them laugh, cry, make them drop the phone, or throw the book across the room. She could travel the world as a word, nestle in the mind of the reader and go somewhere entirely new. She could go anywhere. Be anything.

 _Finally,_ she mused airily, while she still had a consciousness with which to muse. _My starring role…_

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> 1 It was a kind of freedom, arguably. But perhaps not one anyone would ever wish on any poor unsuspecting ball, letter or spooky amulet whose only crime was wanting to see the world. What became of them, no one knew. Dirk himself had frequently investigated the phenomenon, but found nothing conclusive. After his investigations led to him losing a magnet, a torch, his favourite tie and an entire fishing rod to the void, he reluctantly declared the mission a lost cause and shunted his desk a further five inches away from the rift, lest he lose any more of his fidget toys to its mysterious shadow realm.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 2 And, like a certain sentient ashtray-slash-calendar, had a very tenuous grasp on the concept of time even on good days (not that thinking of particular days as inherently good or bad was helpful in making the topic less vexing).  [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 The café had truly atrocious taste in furniture, but it hadn't become the favourite haunt of the agency by merits of the decor. It made good tea, good coffee, and the owner had a strong stomach for otherworldly shenanigans. It was one of few eateries in a twenty mile radius that didn’t have Dirk’s photograph on a ‘do not serve’ wall. Not that being barred from the premises tended to keep him out, but he rarely went to the bother of putting on a disguise for the sake of sipping his tea in front of a picture of himself. Especially when the manager kept foiling his attempts to replace it with a more flattering photograph.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 4 And subsequently, whether she’d been listening in all day. And if so how many mental shopping lists, loops of _Bring It All Back_ (thanks, Dirk), embarrassing soppy moments of missing his boyfriend and resulting inappropriate thoughts about what he and said boyfriend _could_ have been doing right now she'd had to put up with. Had to put up with? No. Rightfully endured. Her own stupid fault for poking about in his head. [ return to text ]
> 
> 5 Insanity has been described by many historical figures- though, interestingly, _not_ by Albert Einstein- as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Todd knew this well, in fact, it was the same thing he told Dirk on occasion when he got it into his head that maybe the microwave _wouldn’t_ explode if he left his fork in it, this time. But logic cowered in the face of desperation, and for all Todd knew, fiftieth time was the charm.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 6 Honest by his standards- overly harsh and hypercritical by just about anyone else’s.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 7 Entirely possible- he certainly name-dropped the man a lot. [ return to text ]
> 
> 8 He always imagined great thinkers and philosophers stroking their beards in deep thought. If the answer to life, the universe and everything was ever found, the finder would surely have a perfectly combed beard by the time they made the announcement. Well worth the finger cramps, in Dirk’s opinion.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 9 They’d acquired it about a year ago. Dirk noticed that Todd liked to wake himself up and prepare for the day by sipping his hideous coffee and people watching (although he always insisted that he was only doing it because morning TV was shit), so Dirk had enlisted the help of Farah and a sofa he’d found lodged in the stairwell to assemble a comfy bench for his morning routine.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 9It was remarkable, Dirk always thought, how often those two things seemed to come hand in hand with Todd Brotzman. It was unusual, but it worked for them- Dirk enjoyed their light-hearted squabbling in the daylight hours, and he was more than happy to repurpose it in the bedroom. [ return to text ]


End file.
